Mine
by ForeverMartyr
Summary: "One year. I've been married to her for three hundred and sixty-five glorious days; sometimes I can't believe it's real. Sometimes I still feel seventeen, still a young schoolgirl trying to make something of herself. But when I wake up each morning, I remember. Life is more beautiful simply because she's in it. She's my wife, my love, my everything." Quinn/Rachel future. Oneshot.


A/N: Hi all. So, I've been working on this story for a long, long time. Nearly a year. Between classes and the everyday business of life, it was on hold for a while, but now it's done, and I'm pretty happy with how it came out. This is my first Glee fic, so I hope you like it! I won't be writing much more Glee, but this story was important. I was tinkering with the rating for some time, and even though it's not horribly explicit, it **does **have sexual implications, so here's the warning. If this isn't your cup of tea, find something else.

Enjoy, and I love reviews :)

* * *

Mine

The sunlight peeks through the white eyelet curtains, causing me to open my eyes and greet the new morning. It's a mid-September day, still summer, still enough to warm my body when I step out into the sun. I yawn softly, blinking a few times to clear my head. The open window brings a soft breeze, and I cherish it. I was never a fan of nature—especially because it messed up my hair more often than not—but over the years, I'd learned to appreciate the simple things. The little things. Some say that it's a waste of time, that I should focus more on bigger goals and aspirations. But they were wrong. The way I see it now, there is no greater happiness in life than the smaller things. It's taken me years, admittedly, to understand this. I've had an ego for the longest time, and I have to say it's calmed considerably. It's because of that one little thing.

As I fully wake up and acknowledge my surroundings, I happen to look down and see it. I see my entire world. I see _her_. And I can honestly say I've never loved anything more in my entire life.

She's still asleep, but her face is peaceful. Strands of blonde hair have fallen over her eyes, but not enough to shield her beauty from me. She had pulled the cotton sheets up to her chin during the night, the way she always does, but I can still see her chest rise and fall with each slow breath. Our days are not always easy; there have been nights where we've screamed, stormed off, had angry tears pouring down our faces. But we fix it. We always fix it. And there is rarely a night where our sleep is disturbed, because we know better than to go to bed angry. I know she is calm and content when she lies next to me on the pillow…when she gives me that small smile…when she traces her fingers down my face and whispers those three words that make my whole body melt…

She is beautiful. She is everything. And she is completely mine.

I push the pieces of hair away from her face and press my lips to her forehead. "Good morning, beautiful," I say softly as she stirs. My breath nearly catches in my throat as she opens her eyes. Even upon awakening from sleep, her gaze captures me, dragging me to the depths of her fiery, passionate—but sleepy at the moment—soul.

"Rachel." Her voice is nothing but a murmur, but it shoots down my spine like an electric shock.

"Hi," I whisper, rather stupidly, in reply, running my hands through her soft hair. She closes her eyes again and sinks lower into the bed, making a soft "hmmm" sound in the back of her throat. I'll be damned if it's not the absolute cutest thing I've ever heard.

"Do we have to get up?" she mumbles, her fingers tightening around the sheet.

I cannot help but smile at her. Her early-morning mannerisms are sometimes too adorable for me to handle. I do not think she knows of the simple pleasure I feel when I wake up each morning and see that she is there in my embrace, no matter what happened the previous night. Her lips turn upwards the slightest bit as I trail my fingers along her jawline, feeling the soft skin grow warm under my touch.

"Yes," I say, even though I would much rather spend all day in bed with her. She finally opens her eyes again, and they are bright, hopeful, content.

She sighs, stretching her arms and legs to their full extent. "Oh, all right." I chuckle slightly to myself because I know the last thing she wants to do is crawl out of bed. Before she can sit up, however, I surprise her by kissing her lips, quick enough to be appropriate but just long enough to remind her how I feel. Another soft sound escapes her and I fully giggle now.

"Is that your attempt to wake me up?" she jokes softly. "Or is that just a reminder of last night?"

"You decide," I whisper, kissing her again. Even in the early morning, I'm a tease, and pull away rather swiftly once more. Her cheeks are slightly pink after I do so.

"Tell you what," I say. "You can go back to sleep for a few minutes while I shower. But I fully expect you to have breakfast with me."

She smiles and closes her eyes once more, her nonverbal thanks for my gesture. Before I leave the bed, however, I lean down and kiss her soft cheek. She slips away into dreamland again with a smile on her face, reminding me that there is nothing I treasure more than her happiness.

After I shower, put on some makeup, dry my hair, and slip on a pair of jeans and a simple red cardigan, I leave the bathroom and realize that she has indeed woken up at last. I'm still somewhat of a teenage girl on the inside as I descend the stairs in a slight hurry, knowing that she awaits me when I reach the end. I thump to the bottom of the stairwell and find her sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapped in her soft purple robe and sipping coffee from a flowery mug. Her lips smile over the rim when she sees me, and it's that tiny gesture of adoration that sends me swirling.

"I can give you a more pleasant morning greeting, now that I'm awake," she says, a tiny smirk on her face.

"Is that so?" I joke, smiling back at her. She sets her mug on the counter and approaches me, wrapping her arms around my body. I sigh in contentment as she rests her head on my shoulder, inhaling the sweet cinnamon she puts in her coffee. She pulls away after a moment though, but only to stare into my eyes.

"Better?" she says, her eyes twinkling.

I press my lips to her forehead. "Better."

The toaster pings from over in the corner and she saunters over, plucking two slices of wheat bread from it. As always, she butters them and cuts them into triangles rather than straight halves. It's the cute little things she does that warm my heart, as cliché as it sounds.

"So," she says with a mouthful of toast, rummaging around in the fridge for some milk. "What's the plan for today?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I don't know. I feel like today is important, but I just can't put my finger on it."

Her eyes widen slightly, but she says nothing as she chews her breakfast. "Well," she begins, in between bites. "I have to go grocery shopping today, bring flowers to my cousin Sarah, and clean up a bit around here."

I nod in response. "I have to bring in my car for an oil change, hit the bank, and return that sweater I didn't like." Sometimes the things I say sound so grown-up that it surprises me.

She sips the last of her milk and puts the dishes in the dishwasher. "Sounds good. I _will_ see you for dinner, yes?" She says it as though it's a minor demand, but I know she's planning something.

"Of course." I take my car keys from the hook by the door and sling my purse over my shoulder. A small smile reaches my face as I look at her, so gentle in her Saturday morning comfort. "I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"

Her face lights up. "Okay." She follows me to the foyer, shuffling in her blue slippers. "Have a good day." Before I can make another move, she cups my cheek in her hand and places the softest of kisses on my lips, sending a shiver down my spine. I blush embarrassedly when she pulls away, and she knows it, which makes her smile.

"I will."

* * *

By mid-afternoon, I'm sitting in a rather disheveled leather chair at the auto body, waiting for my beloved Chevrolet to be fixed. I try not to yawn as I pore through the bland magazine section, which consist of Men's Health (my lacking in testicles makes it less appealing), Sports Illustrated (I'm not one for airbrushed models), and something in French, which was the most interesting only because it had pictures of wildlife. I'm just about to slip into a slight doze when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

It's been years since we first contacted each other, but I still get a little flutter of excitement when I see that it's her.

Quinn:

_Spaghetti or rigatoni tonight?_

I smile.

Rachel:

_Rigatoni please. What are you making?_

Quinn:

_You'll see ;)_

I groan to myself in slight frustration but am impressed by her ability to tease me. I fiddle with my car keys in curiosity. What could she possibly be planning tonight?

My thoughts snap back to reality as the mechanic returns to the lobby and informs me that my car is ready to go. I sigh in relief, fill out the paperwork, and write out the check. I only have a few more hours before I'm due to meet her for dinner, and I still have so much more to do.

I can't help but let my fingers drum anxiously on the steering wheel as I drive around and finish the last of my errands. The line at the bank had been five people long, which took five times as long as I'd anticipated. I had half a mind to skip the mall and just return my sweater another time, but I was already out, and I knew that if I went home too early, I would certainly be reprimanded for intruding on her cleaning. Despite my fretfulness, I smiled slightly to myself, hearing her exact words in my head. _"Oh, Rachel Berry, don't you know better than to interrupt me when I'm trying to be nice to you?"_ She would be joking, of course, but she'd hold off laughter for as long as she could. Even though I saw her this morning, and would again in a few more hours, I still missed her dearly.

By the time I finished everything I'd needed to do, it was five-thirty when I got back, half an hour later than I'd planned. I was a little frantic, but remained calm for her sake, since I knew she'd be slightly stressed out too. Upon entering the foyer, I was greeted with a delicious aroma, but of what, I couldn't be sure. It might have been pasta sauce, it might have been dessert, but either way, I wasn't about to find out. She came storming out of the kitchen, covered in multiple stains and an apron, with a glare on her face.

"Out of my kitchen!" she said fiercely, brandishing a dirty wooden spoon at me.

I couldn't help it; I began laughing hysterically, which only seemed to infuriate her more. "Dammit, Rachel!" she said. "If you spoil this, I'm going to—"

"Hey," I said calmly, having stopped my laughter. I placed my hands on her heaving shoulders, relaxing her. "I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to know. I'm going to head upstairs and I won't come down until you say it's okay, all right?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, her head drooping slightly. "Yes."

"Come here," I said, bringing her body closer to mine. She resisted slightly.

"But—I'm—" she began, gesturing at her messy clothes.

"I don't care," I said softly, enveloping her in my embrace. Her body warm and exhausted, she collapsed, and I let her rest upon me for a moment. "I didn't think it would be this much work," she chuckles into my shoulder.

I pull away and lift her chin up with my hand. "I love you," I said. "I appreciate everything you've ever done for me. You know this."

She smiles, but with fatigue. "Yeah, I know." She waggles the spoon in my face. "Now _out_ of my kitchen!"

I laugh again. "If you say so." I sneak another look over my shoulders as I ascend the stairs, and her gaze is still locked on me.

"I'm watching you," she half-jokes, but I know that the wait will be worth it, so I oblige and scurry up the stairs to the top, slide inside our bedroom, and close the door. My mind swirls with all the possibilities that she could be planning, and my heart pounds with excitement.

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, I fiddle with my hair, redo my makeup, and slip on a black dress she'd bought for me last Christmas. Classic but sleek, the straps slide to my shoulders and come forward in a sweetheart neckline. She has always had wonderful taste in clothes, but this has to be one of my favorites. I put a small pair of heels on my feet and wait.

It seems like hours before she finally contacts me. The phone on the bedside table rings and I can't help but dash over to it, slamming it against my ear. It's her cell phone number on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I say rather breathlessly.

"I'm ready," she says sweetly through the receiver, and my heart melts at the gentle tone of her voice.

"Okay." I'm surprised at how shaky my voice sounds, and my fingers are trembling as I hang up the phone. I try not to run as I leave the bedroom and head down the stairs, but my feet are moving faster than I can control them. The lights are dim in the kitchen when I reach the doorway, and I slow down, wanting to savor every minute of this moment. My mouth nearly drops open when I enter the kitchen at last.

She is standing there like a goddess in a simple but sexy red dress, her hair in a messy bun with loose waves framing her face. The dress flowed to just below the knee, the thin straps on her shoulders just barely holding the V-cut neckline in place. She has one hand resting on her hip and the other placed on the table, which was heaped with all our favorite foods: chicken parmesan, rigatoni, fresh Italian bread, a garden salad, and blueberry cobbler. Two candles had been lit and placed on the table, completing the setting. I smiled, tears almost forming in my eyes. She did all this for me…for _us_.

"Wow…" I say softly, almost embarrassing myself again. I am in complete awe of everything she has done. I cross the room to her, feeling my dress swish around my knees. My fingers intertwine with hers, and I thank her by pressing my lips to hers briefly. "It's wonderful."

"Happy anniversary, Rachel," she breathes, smiling after I break away. With a similar expression, I sit across the table from her, eyeing the full plates.

"Where do I start?" I say, laughing slightly. She responds by passing me the large salad bowl.

"With this," she says. "But don't fill up too much. I worked hard on the chicken, you know." She gives me that familiar coy look that makes my stomach twist in adoration.

I nod. "I know. It all looks amazing." She grins and helps herself to a slice of bread, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

For nearly an hour, we eat and talk, listening to a playlist of slow, sweet songs she'd made on her iPod, each of them reminding me of how much I truly am in love with her. I still can't believe I'm here, and throughout dinner, my eyes flick over to her left hand at the simple diamond on her finger. One year. I've been married to her for three hundred and sixty-five glorious days; sometimes I can't believe it's real. Sometimes I still feel seventeen, still a young schoolgirl trying to make something of herself. But when I wake up each morning, I remember. Life is more beautiful simply because she's in it. She's my wife, my love, my everything. She is worth the world. And I would never change anything that happened in our past.

When we've both had our fill of her delicious dinner and dessert, I help her clean up the dishes, scraping the food into Tupperware containers and putting what couldn't be saved in the trashcan. We load the dishes into the washer, blow out the candles, and toss the linen tablecloth into the laundry room. No longer do we have responsibilities for the rest of the night. I look at her playfully after we've finished cleaning. "Now what?"

She gives me a half-smile. "Whatever you like." As she finishes speaking, however, her eye catches the unlit dishwasher. "Oh. I should probably start that." She begins to head over to it, striding past me, but I grab her wrist before she can continue, feeling a rush of emotion through my body.

"It can wait," I say quietly. "We can start it in the morning."

She sighs. "But—"

"_Please."_ She hears it in my voice and I know in that instant she's forgotten entirely about the dishwasher.

Her body angles back towards me, her wrist still delicately in my hand. There is no hesitation whatsoever as her eyes meet mine, looking into the depths of my soul and knowing. I gently pull her toward me and her lips connect with mine as she wraps her arms around my body, enveloping me physically and mentally in her infatuation. I run my fingers through her blonde hair as she kisses me, wanting to become as close to me as possible. Her hands find my face as she pulls away, short of breath.

"Rachel," she whispers, my name almost ragged as it slips past her tongue. She strokes my cheekbones. "Let me love you…"

I nod quickly and kiss her again, hungrier this time. She responds with equal enthusiasm and allows me to maneuver her out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. A laugh escapes her as I break away and lift her off the ground, bridal-style, the way I did nearly a year ago when we first moved here.

"You're crazy," she giggles, clinging to my shoulders as I carry her carefully up the stairs.

"You love it." I smile back at her as I use my foot to push open the bedroom door, laying her down gently on the cotton sheets. She stares at me with wide eyes, her gaze penetrating me deeper than I could have ever imagined. I climb on top of the bed and hover over her, my nose nearly touching hers.

"You are so beautiful," I murmur to her before kissing her once more.

I can feel my heart pounding in my head as her fingertips dance over the exposed skin of my arms, my back, my neck, shooting electricity through my body with every light caress. Her tongue plays with mine, tracing over my lips and causing me to run short of breath. Her voice speaks my name when I pull away from her mouth and begin kissing her neck instead, feeling warmth flood through my body. She sighs and holds my body close, reaching for the zipper on my dress. I remove my mouth from her skin and stare back at her. The emotion in her eyes conveys what words cannot, and a small smile reaches my face as she manages to slide my dress off my shoulders.

"Need some help?" I chuckle softly, and she shakes her head, sitting up on the bed.

"Not at all," she whispers in reply, pulling the dress completely off me, leaving me in a simple black bra and underwear. She gives me a tiny grin as she looks at my body, shadowed in the moonlight through the open window.

I sigh and allow my gaze to drift over her still-clothed figure. "Well, this certainly doesn't seem fair, does it?"

She arches an eyebrow in playful confusion. "Oh?" she says. I respond nonverbally, leaning in and pulling her towards me. The zipper on the back of her own dress is easy to find, and she buries her warm face in my shoulder as the red garment leaves her body, her lingerie very similar to mine.

I tilt her head up with my fingertips, getting lost in her eyes again. "I love you, Quinn." The phrase comes barely audible from my lips; my whole body is trembling with desire and adoration. Her hand reaches up to stroke my cheek gently, her perfect pink lips forming a smile.

"And I love you, Rachel."

She brings my face close to hers again and kisses me softly, her lips barely brushing mine. Everything in my mind, every worry, every problem vanishes, and it's just us in this life, in this moment. There is nothing that matters to me more than her presence, feeling her warm skin against mine, her soft kisses touching my soul. She pulls me down on the bed next to her, similar to how we were lying just this morning, and she holds me for a moment. I place my head on her chest and I can hear her heart beating rhythmically, quickly, echoing mine. She presses her lips to my forehead and I look up at her, her eyes bright and longing.

"Make love to me."

I smile. "Yes."

Everything seems to slow down as the rest of our clothes are abandoned, kissing in all the right places and caressing with light hands. I have never felt a love as powerful as this. I have never felt so free, so safe. The soft gasps that move past my lips are mere pieces of what I am: enchanted, infatuated, captivated.

I never knew it would come to this. I never knew that all those years ago, when she downright _hated_ me, that I would be lucky enough to have a turn of events. I never knew she would love me the way she does now. When the past moved behind us, we learned to make something new. Together. She gave me—gave _us_—a chance, and that was all we ever needed.

Time. I no longer have any knowledge of it as we slip into the night, becoming one mind, one soul as we make love on the cotton sheets. My name, gentle but longing, is whispered from her mouth, her fingers flying back and forth along my body. The fire in the pit of my stomach ignites with a flame so powerful that I can barely take it. I don't even know how long it is before we collapse in a tangle of arms and legs, kissing breathlessly. I can honestly say that there is nothing in the world that compares to this feeling.

She buries her head in the crook of my neck, giving the cutest yawn I have ever heard. As her heart slowly returns to its normal pace, she slides an arm around my waist and settles in for sleep.

"I'm so happy you're mine," she mumbles, and I smile. She falls asleep before I can respond, but I kiss the top of her head anyway and hold her close.

And just like that, everything is finally perfect.


End file.
